


the fall of man

by Vault_of_Glass



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Biting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, manipulative jerks who fuck each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 18:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18287738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: It’s not the first time John has kissed her, nor the first time he’s been violent, but there is normally a thread of self-control that he retains.She doesn’t feel that now.





	the fall of man

“Eve.”

A crown of golden hair dips low in deference. “What would you have me do, Father?”

Joseph cradles her face between his hands, lifting her gaze to meet his own - steady and constant behind his glasses. “I worry for John. The Deputy has been sowing chaos all around him. We both know what the future holds if he should lose his way. Be his guidance. Keep him on the path.”

She leans into his touch with a beatific smile. “As you wish.”

* * *

John is waiting for her, like she knows he will be. He stands on the front steps, a beacon of intimidation, staring down his nose as their truck rolls to a stop in the driveway. A guard leaps from the back to open her door, and she steps out into the sunshine and fresh air with a breath of relief.

Eve climbs the front steps flanked on either side by armored guards. John blocks her entry for only a moment, long enough to reinforce the height difference between them. She smiles passively up at him and lets him posture until finally he steps back and sweeps an arm out, ushering her inside.

She doesn’t need to inspect the interior; every piece will be in order, every book in proper placement on its shelf, every surface clean and polished. John holds a well-maintained appearance sacred over almost anything.

“He shouldn’t have sent you.”

_Certainly over manners._

Eve turns and tilts her head at him, her placid smile still held comfortably in place. “I am only ever here to serve.”

Inked hands curl into fists before he crosses his arms tight over his chest. Caging his anger like a wild animal, but never disciplined enough to tame it. He eyes the guards that stand attentively around her as if he might eliminate their presence by sheer will alone. “Come with me,” he prompts her smoothly, and when his gaze falls upon her once more, his eyes are narrow, calculating. “I’ll fill you in.”

The guards step to follow when she moves, but she waves her hand at them in dismissal. “I’m in no danger here. Please, make yourselves comfortable while we work. I’ll be back soon.”

Chirps and vibrant twitters carry in from the trees outside. She’s missed the sound of birdsong and babbling brooks and _life_ beyond the bunker where she spends her days. She lingers at an open window to savor the sunshine and the breeze that smells so alive with spring.

John draws to a halt when he notices. He bites his tongue if he’s impatient, slipping his hands into his pockets and simply watching her until she falls into step behind him once more.

“He still keeps you underground, then,” he notes in a muted voice, carefully composed.

She shrugs. “I go where I am needed most.”

There’s a skeptical huff, but otherwise he keeps his thoughts on the matter to himself. “He shouldn’t have sent you,” he says again. “The roads aren’t safe around here lately.”

“The Deputy has been active, haven’t they?”

“They’re everywhere.” For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty touches his expression. He gestures her into his office and closes the door behind them, locking it with a swift twist of his hand. He crosses the room to a map stretched out across his desk and plants his hands against the darkened wood as if to steady himself. “And I can’t slow them down. Falls End was the first to be retaken. They tore through town in broad daylight and dropped my men one by one. The resistance there was free before they even knew it.”

Eve can see the tension now in the line of his shoulders, muscles tight as he hangs his head with a weary sigh. She steps closer and rests her hand on his arm, her voice velvet sympathy when she speaks. “How many did we lose?”

He doesn’t lift his head. “Too many. Fifteen in Falls End alone. That’s not counting all the people they’ve killed on the street, all the destruction they’ve wrought, so much work undone -” He slams his fist down onto the desk, a swift and sudden violence that sets his pens rattling in their holder.

Eve refuses to flinch, curling both hands soothingly around his forearm. “I can hold a service for them. Their names will be honored. They’ll be remembered.”

A fraction of his tension seems to ease beneath her palms. He draws in a deep breath and straightens with a nod in her direction, brushing his hair back from his face and into order once more. “I’ll give you a list of their names.”

“It will be done.” Slowly, slow enough to let him stop her, she reaches up and presses her hand to the side of his face. “I’m here to make things easier for you, John. I want to ease your pains, not add to them.”

At last he faces her again, holding her palm against his cheek. His gaze roams her features at a crawling pace, and it feels so much like being  _claimed_ , like he is mapping out his territory, and the greedy, desperate way he looks at her mouth sends a thrill down her spine.

John crowds her back against the bookshelves with two deliberate steps forward, until she feels the shelves and spines biting into her shoulders. She holds his stare, unmoved even as he looms over her, thoroughly trapping her in. “You never do anything just to help,” he accuses, his voice a thin, bitter thing, dragging his thumb along her bottom lip. “You can lie to the others, but you can’t bullshit me. I  _know_ you. I know your lies.” The last word he hisses through his teeth, gripping her jaw hard in his hand.

She rolls an even gaze up at him, only the barest curl of a smirk on her lips. “We all see our own faults, John. Will you always be so blinded by yours?”

Rage lights the blue of his eyes, sharp and cold like shards of ice. In one fluid motion, he has the arch of her throat in his hand, squeezing in just tight enough to feel her pulse beating against his thumb. He stares into her eyes as if he can somehow divine the truth from her thoughts. “Why did he send you? Just to  _torment me_?!”

Eve lifts her chin, passivity maintained if not for the traitorous racing of her heart. “You torment yourself enough,” she breathes, words pinched into whispers. That anger seethes in him again, rising like a raging tide, and she softens under the force of it. “I want to help you. Don’t send me away.” When she pleads, something shifts in his expression, a crack in the plates of his armor. She lets her voice break in response. “ _Please_ , John. Don’t send me away.”

Dark brows twitch low over his eyes, discerning, distrustful. His grip holds her on tiptoes when he dips his head to claim her mouth, his lips hard and hungry. It’s not the first time John has kissed her, nor the first time he’s been violent, but there is normally a thread of self-control that he retains. She doesn’t feel that now as he lifts her by the hips and slams her back against the shelves, deepening the kiss when her lips part around a gasp. He conquers the space between her thighs, pinning her suspended in his arms. Her body has become a map of nerve response and muscle memory all singing to the force of his touch, the helplessness and little pains that orchestrate her arousal.

She’s never lost her self-control before either.

The moan that slips past her teeth seems to surprise him. He pauses, panting, to admire her expression, her lidded eyes, the swollen shape of her lips. With a smile, he winds his hand into her hair and tilts her head back, baring the length of her neck. “Not as pious as you pretend,” he murmurs, laughter in his eyes as he rolls his hips teasingly against her. His fingers trace the four barbed letters scarred across her chest. “ _Will you always be so blinded by your sins?_ ”

Eve grips her nails into his shoulders. She wets her lips and whimpers when his mouth finds the base of her throat. “I’m only human,” she sighs, shivering at the delicious pain as he sucks a mark into her skin. “I can be tempted, too.”

John bites a groan into her shoulder. Between them, she can feel his cock twitch with need. She strokes a soothing hand down the back of his neck, to calm herself as much as him. She’s found safe harbor at Eden’s Gate, but maintaining her place here requires constant diligence, a demureness that she does not feel. Since her life as Eve began, she has been starving to be touched like this again. 

She draws him into another kiss and feels his fingers gripping bruises down her hips and thighs. Pinned between his body and the bookshelf, she clutches at his shirt for support, her legs parted and dangling around his hips. He catches her bottom lip between his teeth, licking over the sting and tempting an airy moan from deep in her throat.

“If I had known you would make such  _beautiful_ sounds…” John trails his mouth along a muscle in her neck, leading the straps of her dress down her shoulders while his teeth litter her skin with pallid bruises. There will be no hiding his handiwork, but then there never has been. His marks are meant to hurt, to remain, to remind. She will not be likely to forget.

He lifts her away from the wall, and they stumble toward the couch together, tugging at each other’s clothing. He undresses her with brisk efficiency, letting his greedy hands explore the soft curves of her body. His shirt is still half-buttoned when they land across the cushions, and she struggles to unfasten the last of them. His kisses never slow, and he hasn’t been gentle with her, so she pulls until the threads give with a satisfying snap and the buttons scatter, baring the scars and ink that sprawl his skin. She hears him growl something vaguely disapproving, his teeth a punishing sting at the hollow of her throat.

But she can’t contain a gasp of relief at the warmth of him against her and the tension twitching in his muscles when she touches him. Her nails score lines down the slope of his back, clawing at his skin to keep him close. His mouth scalds the scar tissue across her chest and the dip between her breasts, teasing her nipples to stiff points with teeth and tongue. She rakes her nails through his hair and feels him shiver in response, breathing her name in a reverent whisper.

He handles her with ravenous urgency, mapping her skin beneath his palms and wandering mouth. “I will make you sing for me, Eve.” His eyes are dark with desire when he looks up at her and drags his hand along the smooth skin of her thighs. Inked knuckles graze the damp lace of her panties before he hooks them to the side and slides his fingers down the slick between her thighs.

Eve’s head falls back with a brittle cry she bites into her fist. Her hips tremble beneath him, body wracked with shivers from the expert touch he teases in around her clit. It’s been so long, so very long, and her clumsy touch could never begin to compare to a firm hand between her legs, prying her knees apart to fuck her with thick fingers. She sobs his name, broken composure long forgotten for the tight, hot pleasure bleeding through her.

John watches her start to unravel, never tearing his eyes from her face as she writhes and moans and tries to stifle the desperation in her voice. His thumb rolls precise little circles around the swollen bead of her clit, and the touch is all at once too heavy, too much, not enough. Every nerve in her body feels raw, wound unbearably tight, as if the slightest hint of pressure will shatter her like glass.

“Sing for me, Eve.” He splays a hand above her shoulder, his weight pressing her down into the couch as his wet fingers work between her legs. “I want to hear you beg before you come.”

She is not above begging, not if it gets her what she needs, not when he fills her with his fingers, crooking them until she stiffens and releases another delicate moan; but there is something about pushing his fragile patience, coaxing that cruelty in him that sharpens all his edges. She digs her nails into the muscles of his shoulder, the only lifeline left to ground her when the world goes hazy at the edges. A precipice hangs inches out of reach, tantalizing, every teasing stroke another glimpse of bliss too blinding to hold onto.

John drags his mouth up her twitching stomach with a smug chuckle. “I can feel you shaking.  _Beg me_ , Eve, and I will ease your suffering.”

Eve scrabbles at his neck and shoulders, hoping her nails will break his flesh and mark him too, etch her claim in crimson lines across his back. His fingers maintain that maddeningly teasing pace, mouth dropping to the curves of her breasts as her hips flex against his, where she feels the throbbing press of his cock.

That brief contact nearly sends her over. John must feel her muscles start to lock, because his touch recedes and all the rising tension slowly fades, sapping the pleasure from her nerves and leaving only emptiness behind.

John clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “I can keep you on the edge of coming until the Collapse is upon us, little bird.  _I will hear you sing_.” That wicked undercurrent bleeds into his voice, a rigid wrath that punctuates each syllable and holds the distant threat of danger. He grips her hair in a tight fist and laps his tongue over a mark he’s bitten into her shoulder. The dull pain twists and resonates, dancing the line of pleasure as she aches for his touch again.

Eve presses her trembling hands to his face, his name a breathy confession on her tongue. “ _Please_ , John. You don’t know how I need you.”

His mouth curls up in satisfaction before his hand starts to move again, falling back into that teasing, eager rhythm. Two wide, inked fingers part her folds and push inside, stretching her as his thumb settles above her clit and continues the tight shapes that leave her shivering and begging through her teeth. She’s so wet and so close and John Seed is  _so good with his hands_  that she has only a brief moment to regret not doing this sooner before she’s coming apart to his touch.

The pleasure begins at the tips of his fingers, bright vibrant cords of bliss that bleed out through her seizing muscles. Her pride, her plans, her racing heart all seem to dissipate beneath the force of her own personal collapse, the world crashing and burning all around her, and she cries his name into the void when only mindless ecstasy remains.

Eve comes back down to the sound of his voice, soft murmurs at her ear that sound like prayer. “So  _beautiful_ , so  _perfect_ , you sound so sweet when you come for me,” he breathes, and she hears the click of metal as he fumbles with his belt. “ _Oh_ , how you’ll sing when I fuck you, when I fill you and make you mine.”

With shaking arms, she draws him close and wraps her legs around him, urging him toward the heat between her thighs. His hand is rough at the curve of her jaw, his breathing hard as he kisses her and grips her thigh just tight enough to hurt. She feels the hot head of his cock sliding against her, hard where she is slick and soft, and his voice breaks when he finally,  _finally_ sinks inside. The breath all squeezes from her lungs at the exquisite fullness of parting around him. Blissful tears spill from her lashes as she feels every agonizing inch of him nudge deeper and slowly pull back out.

A wounded groan rises from deep in his chest when he bottoms out once more. Her mouth works around soundless syllables, her words broken into fragments as his hands find the curves of her ass and haul her deeper onto his cock. When he latches teeth into the soft skin of her neck and fucks a slow, torturous pace, she sobs and locks her nails into his sides.

The sting draws another whine from behind his teeth. He pants her name at the curve of her neck, catching a handful of her hair and holding fast as his hips snap a rapid, brutal rhythm. Sweat slicks the muscled slope of his back, wetting the dark strands of his hair. He grits his teeth and nips at the curve of a breast, sucking a stiff pink nipple between his lips until she whimpers, overstimulated.

One broad hand pins her wrists above her head, stretching her open under his possessive gaze. Blue eyes blown out with pupil trace the bites and bruises he’s stained into her skin, the bounce of her breasts as he fucks her, the confession penned across her chest in his own hand. She could spend an eternity split open around his cock, bitten into submission and stinging so sweetly from his touch.

John watches the relief play across her face, and the sound of her wrecked voice around his name is his undoing. He groans and gives a few last jerking thrusts that lock them deep together as he fills her. She feels the warm, wet rush when he comes, and shivers of satisfaction grip her spine at the sensation.

His chest is still heaving for breath when he draws her against his heated skin, dropping a lazy, sated kiss to her swollen mouth. He grinds his hips and fucks his cum deeper with a slick, filthy sound, his fingers clutching tight at her hips like he has no intention to release her anytime soon.

She’s not sure she’d have the strength to leave if she wanted to. She strokes gentle fingers through his hair instead, over the scars and tattoos that mark his back. John slowly eases in her embrace. He presses soothing kisses to each bruise left from his teeth, and lastly, when she’s nearly drifted into dreamless slumber, the sin he carved into her skin. The first mark of many, written like a prophecy across her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he offers softly, and there is a lost sort of quality to his voice, as if he’s not sure exactly what he’s apologizing for.

“I’m not,” she promises. She holds his palm against her chest, where he can feel her heartbeat, and they share one last, long kiss before she rises to her feet.

John catches her hand and curls his fingers around hers. “Stay with me,” he tells her, with all the conviction of an impulse decision. His eyes are bright and almost pleading when he cradles her hand between his own. “You should be free to walk in the sun where you belong. Not caged up underground. I know that’s not what you want.”

Eve holds his face between her hands with a sad smile. “There are many things I want that I should not.” She taps the faded  _avaritia_ inked into the back of his hand. She cannot see the matching sin across her own shoulders, but the pain of its confession is still vivid in her memory. “Would you have me succumb to all of my sins in one day?”

Something dark flickers in his gaze, that violent rage brought swiftly back to life, tempered into fierce devotion. “If it allows me to keep what is mine.”

He looks like he would set the world ablaze to keep her by his side, and satisfaction warms the barren stretches of her heart. “I’ll think about it,” she promises, sinking down beside him again. “Now. About the Deputy…”

* * *

When Eve finally wanders back downstairs, the pink and warmth have almost faded from her cheeks, her golden hair pulled back into a neat and tidy coil. She flashes her armed escorts a bright smile from the bottom of the stairs.

“Well, I think my work here is finished. Shall we head back home then?”

They’re just pulling out of the driveway when the radio cuts out, and John Seed’s voice rings from the speakers, confident and cold with threat.

_Deputy, you’ve had your fun - but all sinners must confess. This is the will of the Father. My men are coming for you._

Eve smiles, enjoying the last of the sunshine before she must hide from the world once again.

_I’ll see you soon._


End file.
